


Knowing When to Stop

by Wishful86



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, kinkmeme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 17:03:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1436086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wishful86/pseuds/Wishful86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written as a fill for this prompt on the BBC kinkmeme:<br/>Can I please have an exhausted Aramis story? No drama or angst, just him being really f**king tired and Porthos and/or Athos herding him off to bed, kinda finding his sleepy rambling funny but at the same time disapproving of him running himself ragged.</p><p>Hope you enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knowing When to Stop

"Aramis, could you look over Francis' wound again, he ripped his stitches."

"Aramis, d'Artagnan really needs some proper shooting lessons, would you..."

"Aramis. Oh Aramis, please don't stop."

"Aramis. My Office. Now."

"Aramis, we need you to translate some documents."

"Aramis."

"Aramis!" 

A hand gently shook the man's shoulder causing him to jolt awake, "What? What's wrong?"

"Nothings wrong," Athos reassured his friend with a small smile, keeping a supportive hand on his shoulder.

"No, you just nearly dropped your head in your dinner," Porthos said amused.

Aramis blinked at them blearily, "Dinner?" 

"Yes, dinner," Athos responded gesturing to the food on the table, "Where do you think you are?"

After a yawn, Aramis shook his head, "I'm not sure anymore."

Porthos chuckled, "I think we all know where you should be."

"I agree" Athos nodded.

Their friend looked at them with childlike confusion before something seemed to dawn on him, "Was I supposed to be somewhere?" he said urgently, trying to stand up but finding a strong arm pulling him down.

"No, you idiot," Porthos said as Athos rolled his eyes beside him, "We meant you should be in bed."

"Who should be in bed?" Aramis' mind felt mushy, "d'Artagnan?"

Porthos couldn't help but laugh. Athos rubbed a hand down his face, "d'Artagnan is out running an errand for the Captain. It is you who should be in bed."

Once again, Aramis blinked at them. Athos sighed. "You need to sleep," he reiterated clearly.

"Yeah and not in your soup," Porthos told him.

There was a moment of silence where they tried to see if their message was getting across. Aramis seemed to be swaying slightly. Then rather suddenly he focussed, "I should go to bed," he said as though the idea had just dawned on him.

"An excellent idea," Athos said as he fought the urge to roll his eyes again but Porthos couldn't hold back another laugh.

"What's funny?" Aramis asked looking at Athos for a clue. 

"You are," Porthos teased. He stood up and went to stand next to his exhausted companion, "Right, come on."

Aramis frowned, glanced up at Porthos and then looked back at Athos, "Where are we going?"

It took all of Athos' strength not to bang his head on the table in exasperation. Still, atleast a tired Aramis was easier to deal with than a drunk Aramis waffling in Spanish, he thought whilst standing and giving Porthos a pointed look. Between them they pulled their friend up to his feet and began guiding him away.

"Where are we going?" Aramis kept asking, although he didn't put up much of a protest as the two other men led him towards his rooms. When they reached his door however, Aramis furrowed his brow and shrugged off the hands on his back, "I'm not going to bed now."

"Yes, you are," Athos said firmly behind him.

Aramis turned, "I have to redress Francis' wound. D'Artagnan wanted to try shooting at night-"

"You are going to bed," Porthos' tone would have brooked no argument from most but Aramis wasn't most.

"Porthos, I have things to-"

"You have done enough," Athos interrupted, "Think about yourself for a change."

Aramis blanched slightly. He gazed between his friends, his brothers, who both wore expressions of frustration but it was the presense of concern also lacing their eyes that made him stop. He lent back against his door and felt his body relent. He was absolutely gone. He could look back at mere tiredness fondly now.

Athos seemed to have sensed victory but offered up one last push, "Porthos and I can take d'Artagnan out."

"Yeah," Porthos cottoned on to Athos' thinking, "And we'll get Marcus to check on Francis."

There was no energy left in Aramis; he knew the fight was over. He offered a smile of thanks to his companions and then slowly turned to enter his lodgings. 

Porthos and Athos shared a relieved and congratulatory nod; mission accomplished.  
Although they both knew that they needed to do more to prevent their brother from running himself completely ragged again in the future. Unfortunately, Aramis was Aramis and that mission was impossible. 

...


End file.
